Man Parts
by GeekMom
Summary: A Twitter prompt, or maybe, more accurately, a plea from @alanapaints for an arm wrestling story. My brain went "Hm...arm wrestling...biceps...done!" and then this happened. Extra/alternate scene during 6x23 "For Better or Worse". My hero-worship of Mr. Marlowe et al illustrates itself in the highest form of flattery: my poor attempt at imitation, but these are his creations.


"You know, Kit-Kat I don't want you to be sad about this, okay?" He exhaled and dipped his head. "'Cause you're better off without me."

Kate tapped on the legal papers with her index finger. "Just sign the papers," she said, exasperation escaping along with her exhale.

O'Leary looked at the two of them anxiously waiting for him to put the ink on the page. "Okay." He put the pen on the line and then picked it up again, touched it to his lips and then pointed it at Castle. "You are a lucky man, Man-Parts. I, uh I just wish I had what you guys have." He looked down at the bar. He had had a lot of good times in this bar; times with Tildy, but just like everything else in his life and just like his time with Kate Beckett, he had screwed that up too.

"Rogan, just sign, please?" Beckett's voice was desperate. Castle grabbed her hand and squeezed patience to her palm.

He narrowed his eyes. "Okay, I'll sign, but before I do, I just need to know."

"Know what?" Castle and Beckett asked in their freaky mind-melded way.

Rogan stood and kicked away his barstool. He pushed up the sleeves on his gray hoodie and fisted his hands. He stared at Castle. "I need to know if Man-Parts here is man enough for you Kit-Kat." He looked at Castle menacingly.

Castle stared, dumbfounded, at Kate's error in judgment. "Wha…I'm…uh…I'm sorry? I'm not following." He chuckled, "I _am_ marrying her and she agreed without coercion or while under the influence."

"For realsies," Kate added while biting her lip.

"Nah, given your less than manly reactions: I need to make sure you're man enough for her. What kind of husband would I be if I didn't protect you, Kit-Kat?"

"Rogan, you're not my husband…" Castle had heard that tone before. What came next usually was not pleasant.

He shook his head and slapped his hand on the dissolution agreement on the bar. "I disagree and so does the State of New York and these papers."

"Oh god…what do you want now?"

"Kate…" Castle's eyes had hardened into cold steel. She had seen that look before. What came next usually was not pleasant. He had had just about as much as he could take of Rogan O'Leary. Castle deliberately breathed in and out. "How do I prove myself…to your satisfaction?"

"See, Kit-Kat?" Rogan indicated Castle. "He's a douche."

Kate closed her eyes and deliberately breathed in and out.

Castle stood and took off his sports coat. Kate felt a surge of primal vanity. Her man was going to fight for her. The 21st century Kate scoffed and rolled her eyes at the exhibition of testosterone, but primordial Kate cheered her caveman.

Castle protectively stood by Kate's shoulder and draped his arm around her back. He pursed his lips. "How do you want to do this?" His distaste for O'Leary was leaching from him in waves.

"Over here, Man-Parts." Rogan led him to a table in the corner.

Castle did a double take, his mind working on possible scenarios: darts, drinking, poker. He did well at all three. What he really wanted was to beat the shit out of this excuse for a human being or a husband. He was done having Kate and him jerked around at the end of this guy's chain. Castle had a couple of inches on him and his new trainer had him at his best physical shape in years. He was sure he could bounce the inept con-man's head into the pavement. He sighed. "Can we get on with whatever?" he asked impatiently. Kate had joined them at the table and she massaged his shoulders.

"Okay," Rogan said and after a dramatic pause, he added, "Arm wrestling."

Castle blinked, absolutely sure he had misheard. Kate smelled a set-up. "Arm…seriously?"

"Yeah," Rogan sneered. "Unless you might break one of those pretty manicured nails."

Castle clenched his jaw. "Fine," he growled and he placed his elbow on the table.

"You win; I sign and you get Kit-Kat. I win and Kit-Kat and I try to make a go of it."

Castle looked up into O'Leary's eyes. The man was serious. He felt Kate's hands slide down his back.

"No." Castle answered calmly.

"No?"

"Yeah."

Rogan squinted. "What?"

Castle sighed. This man was easily confused. "Yeah, I said no to the stakes."

"Do you have another idea?" Rogan asked.

"First, a Kit-Kat is a candy bar, not my fiancée and second, we are going to leave Kate out of this." Rogan already started to shake his head. "She's a woman, thoroughly and fully capable of making her own decisions." Kate beamed at her fiancé's conviction and praises of her. She stuck out her tongue and glared at Rogan.

"But she's what this is about," Rogan postulated with his palm turned up.

"No," Castle countered as he shook his head, "she is not. This is about you and your own insecurities." Castle could read people and had O'Leary figured out almost completely, within the first few moments with him in the barn. He half expected him to wet himself when Barbosa came back. "O'Leary, Kate's out of this. If you win, you sign the papers and I'll pay for this bar's mortgage so you can try to win back Tildy, even though I think she's better off without you." He waited for the incentive to take hold in O'Leary's brain, knowing the insult would be lost on him. "If I win, you sign the papers and we leave here and you never contact either of us again." The confidence oozed out of Castle's pores. This was the version of Castle who had negotiated his own early book contracts and parlayed his talent into millions: the businessman.

Rogan sized him up. He figured he could beat Man-Parts; he didn't look like he had too much going on under that fancy button down shirt, maybe even a little flabby. Rogan was younger and he knew how to cheat. "Agreed," he said.

They agreed on rules and Castle stood to take off his shirt. Kate rubbed his shoulders, like she was a manager in a prizefight, as he unclasped the cufflinks. He stripped out of the shirt revealing a form fitting black vee neck tee shirt and…Kate exhaled and smiled conceitedly.

Rogan stared at the physique that had been revealed. Castle had well defined pectoral muscles, his traps and deltoids strained the limit of the fabric. Castle made a show of stretching and flexing, something only Kate had ever been the audience for before. Her smile widened.

Castle sat down, placed his elbow back on the table and almost smiled as he watched as Rogan assess his bicep. Castle was proud of his guns. He had worked hard to develop them and rarely brought them out to play. "Seventeen," he said.

Rogan dragged his eyes up to the author's laser like stare. "What?"

"Inches. You seemed to be interested," Castle supplied as he raised an eyebrow.

O'Leary pulled his lips tight and placed his elbow up on the table. They agreed to rules, clasped hands; Rogan's were rougher than Castle's, but Castle's were larger. Kate stood to the left and just behind Castle, keeping her hands on his shoulders. She could feel him tense as the contest began and he brought Rogan's arm almost down to the table. Castle never let his gaze wander from O'Leary's eyes, like everything else Castle did, it was about the story and Rogan's story was in his eyes.

Rogan, on the other hand, let his gaze flicker from their clenched fists, to the table, to Castle's unwavering stare and anywhere else that caught his attention.

Kate's consideration, along with every other female bar patrons', was focused on the undulating and expanding musculature escaping the sleeve of the black tee shirt. She could practically smell the pheromones along with the alcohol in the tavern. She smiled: he was hers, he was competing for her. They'd be lucky if they could make it out of the small town before needing to pull over and satisfy her desire.

The bell on the door jangled and Rogan's ever wandering eyes locked on the newest denizen of the bar. Immediately he became focused and exerted additional effort. Castle had been keeping him hovering just over the table, but with the added ferocity, Rogan managed to get their arms perpendicular to the table once again. Surprised by the sudden onslaught, Castle searched for the reason. Tildy had entered the bar. Castle turned his gaze back on the man struggling to move his arm and considered him. He looked around the bar; it'd probably be less than fifty thousand.

Kate, protectively and possessively hanging onto Castle's shoulders, felt the second he stopped exerting. A second later Rogan was on his feet, strutting, giving and receiving high-fives and crowing about his victory. The women who were routing for Castle turned away disappointedly.

Castle slipped back into his shirt, followed by his jacket. Kate watched him. He pulled out his checkbook and after Tildy checked her records, he bought her bar for her. Rogan got the victory kiss. He was too happy to sign the papers and Castle and Kate slipped out of the bar and away from the ensuing celebration.

* * *

They'd been on the road for about twenty minutes. Kate watched him from the passenger seat. He loved to drive and since she was off duty, she'd relinquished control of the cruiser. "Castle?"

"Mmm hmm."

"Why did you let him win?" She had a theory, but needed to hear him explain it.

He glanced at her and then steadfastly kept his eyes on the road. "I don't know what…"

"I felt you relax." He chewed on the inside of his cheek and considered her. "You know what I think?" He glanced over to her again and quirked an eyebrow, but remained quiet. "I think you let him win." He opened his mouth but she continued. "I think that you purposely let him win even after everything he put us through and him forcing you into that ridiculous contest, even after all of that, you wouldn't out man him."

Castle started to protest. It had been a while since Kate had called his manhood into question, throwing out labels like girly or metrosexual. He had proven time and time again that he was indeed a writer man as she screamed his name. He was sure she approved of his man parts and his ability to use them. "Kate…"

"No, just listen," she admonished and placed a tender finger on his lips. "You could have easily taken him, but you didn't. It was, by far, the most masculine exhibition I have ever seen." He looked at her again, gauging her sincerity. "You, Richard Castle, in the blink of an eye, let the lesser man win in front of his friends and family and regain some dignity in his community; you secured his relationship with the love of his life and deepened my love for you. You're remarkable."

He blushed. "Do you think he knows?"

"He knows you could have taken him. He has justified his win somehow by now, taking all the credit and probably singing songs of your defeat."

"You know, it wasn't that long ago that I would have finished him and then strutted around in my own victory dance." He pulled the car over to the side of the road, after parking he turned to her. "Today was because of you, Kate."

"You mean you wanted to impress me? Because it did."

He smiled the crooked smile. "That's hot, but no." He placed both hands back on the wheel, ten and two and gripped a little tighter. He turned his head back to her. "You have changed me, you know? I'm not just a better man for you, I'm better for Alexis and my mother, my friends because of you and I can never thank you enough for that."

Kate could feel her eyes welling. Oh, this man. He had sold himself short: he had always been a good man. No, she should be thanking him; no one else could have saved her. She blinked a couple of more times and then found her voice again. "I think I know how you can thank me," she said, her voice barely audible.

Castle swallowed. "Here?" He looked behind him to the back seat. "Oh my god, are you giving us permission to finally christen this cruiser?" His arousal and enthusiasm radiated from him, laden with testosterone.

"Castle…" Kate began to correct him. She never got to finish as he leaned across the center console and kissed her fiercely. She succumbed to the animalistic need she had for him and had been denying all afternoon. Kate was grateful they had taken the back roads instead of the interstate back to the city.

It turned out, that the back seat of her cruiser was completely adequate for a down and dirty session of sex with the man of your dreams. Castle, still partially clothed, rested his head on her breast, catching his breath and listening to the strong beat of her heart along with the still erratic thub-dubs of his own in his ears.

He reached up and caressed her jaw. His bright blues met her smoky hazels. "God, I love you. That was so hot." He sat up. "Can we put that part in our vows as well?"

"Castle?" Her eyebrows shot up. "What do you mean? I promise to have hot sex on the side of the road in the back of a police cruiser?"

"Oddly specific." She leaned down and retrieved his jeans from the floor of the backseat and threw them at his head. "No," he clarified, "I promise that we will remain adventurous and playful; that I will always be open to new and exciting possibilities; that we will never be stuck in a rut of missionary rutting." He vowed all of that from under heavy, sex saturated, hooded eyes, waggling an eyebrow or licking his lips as necessary for emphasis.

Kate exhaled. "We're going to be late for our wedding if we don't get back on the road and if you keep talking to me like that, we won't be able to walk down the aisle."

"Hot." He extended the word by its first and last consonants. He leaned back to kiss her and then jumped out of the car to pull his pants back on. Kate stayed inside to redress. He was pulling on his jeans and his ass was appreciated by a group of what looked to be college co-eds in a van. They slowed, honked the horn and then rolled down the windows and applauded as they went past. He smiled and waved; Kate sunk closer to the floor, but her face held a wide smile, she appreciated his man-parts, too.


End file.
